


Renascence

by ScarletAnpan



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Bullying, Character Study, Escapism, Gambling, Isolation, Neglectful Parents, Poverty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletAnpan/pseuds/ScarletAnpan
Summary: Taeko Yasuhiro was no one to anyone, and that was okay. That was just how she thought she liked it. But one day, something shifted.Fic about Taeko's childhood, and the creation of Celestia Ludenberg.





	1. Awakening

Taeko Yasuhiro was born with gleaming red eyes. They were a bit creepy, so she didn’t look at people much with them. They would frown when she did. Instead, her eyes trailed the ground when she walked about. So often so that she gained a deeply personal relationship with the cracked cement and snails and puddles of water and bits of grass and leaves on her way to school. And going from school, she watched the ground again, like visiting an old friend. It was an exceptionally bland thing to do, but she liked it. It’s what made her Taeko, the plainest, most average, most empty child in the world. She had no parents, no friends, no interests to fill her up. Even the snails she properly named weren’t able to put into her an ounce of anything worth treasuring. She was nothing. And that’s just how she thought she liked it.

But of course, something changed. Something always does. It was during another visit with the cement, after school. A student had said something troubling. Taeko knew she was nothing, but being so plainly faced with “there’s nothing interesting about you,” sort of hurt. She frowned, dampening the atmosphere of her conversation with a passerby worm. It was true. But she didn’t like to be told that. No one wants to hear their own flaws. She rummaged through her head over and over again, searching for why the fellow classmate would choose to say that. To rip off the bandaid on a wound that never quite healed, that always seemed fresh no matter how many months and years passed. To expose bloody proof of her biggest fault. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t nice. What had she done to deserve such sharp words, that poked at her like a knife at her stomach? She stomped a bit, in attempts to physically squelch the pain beneath her shoes. It didn’t work.

She stomped on, entirely enraptured in the pain, until her attention came back to her, where she noticed that she had lost sight of her snail friends. Breaking her ritual and pulling her head up to see, her surroundings changed. They had warped, the residential houses and apartments stuffing themselves away to make room for storefronts. People traversed these stores, and the sidewalks attached to them. Most of these people were adults, and Taeko felt herself worry. She would say she was lost, but she remembered the stashed-away gyoza shop she saw, dark and shadowed by a much taller, much nicer building. Her father had taken her there once. The gyoza was as filling as the dumpling was stuffed with meat, physically and spiritually. After one visit, the girl was convinced that gyoza was the best food in the universe. She wouldn’t go there—no, that was reserved for special occasions. But _nothing_ barred her from exploring the expanse of the rest of the street.

Taeko turned onto the sidewalk where she could get a closer view of the many shops. She noticed the adults, how they walked with hurry and purpose. She knew the chances of looking lost in a place like this. Someone would notice her, round her up, and have her hauled off to the police where her parents would have to go in search of their ‘missing child.’ They would sigh, tired and stressed and already burdened, now so much so that their backs would bend and they would slump, their sunken eyelids boring into her already embarrassed figure. They would grab her wordlessly and it would be a mind-numbingly silent trip home. When she would walk inside of the apartment, illuminated only by the window letting in damp light outside, she would sit down on the ratted carpet, ashamed. And then her parents would tiredly berate her. She would bite her lip, and once it was over, crawl over to her bed on the couch, while they would retire to their room. She would go hungry that night.

And she couldn’t allow that. The idea of it was much too foul, so she stood up quite proper and confident. She moved with the same purpose as the adults, to trick them into believing she was a well-behaved child, who had been sent off to a candy store to browse the treats early, while her parents followed far behind. This tactic was sound enough, and she found herself relatively unbothered by the adults towering around her. She filed down the road, taking time to glance deep into store windows on the way. They reflected back at her clothes and toys and food. She wished to step into any one of them, but feared bothering the delicate balance of luck that already allowed her to be here, unaccosted. She would just view everything. She couldn’t take too many risks, right?

...is what her mind was telling her, before she stumbled upon a certain window. It ripped her attention away and she immediately changed her path, going over to plaster herself against the glass. In it, a dress. It was black, laced with white. Her eyes traveled among its intricacies, the lace and frill and accents upon it. The skirt of it was expansive and delicate, gracing all the space around it with it’s splendor. It was beauty. Ultimate beauty. Her eyes attempted to drink up all the dress has to offer. For the first time, something in her ticked. The dress sent a spark through her, one that shocked her brain and electrified the cogs of her mind to moving. Thoughts filled her for once. The dress filled her for once. With something. A yearning for it. How nice would it be to wear that? She’d look pretty and proper and different. She would be different. She murmured the word on her tongue a few times, it feeling foreign to her. Different.

She wanted it. Of course, she knew she could never have it. The Yasuhiros were an unlucky family. That had been so since the beginning of time. Her family history was filled with tragedy and freak accidents and poverty. It was a miracle the Yasuhiros hadn’t dissolved out from the genetic tree of the world entirely, but still they remained. “Like roaches,” her mother would say in an endearing tone, running her hands through the unkempt mess that was Taeko’s hair. The attempt at comfort came off as something rather repugnant to Taeko. She was never destined for greatness, and it was something she had accepted since the moment she was born. No circumstance could ever allow for her to obtain a dress as nice as that. She glowered, but still found herself determined. Breaking her own rules, she stood up tall and marched into the store.

The first thing she experienced was the overwhelming scent of perfume. It came like a tide, bowling into her as she stepped through the door. She almost drowned in it, choking a bit for fresh air. But the perfume began to fill her lungs, and soon she found it became as natural to breathe as the air outside. A bell ringed as she had opened the door, and a foreign man in a pressed suit looked over the rim of his book. He sat in the corner of the store, likely being the keeper of the dresses. Taeko admired that role, and walked about slowly, elegantly, to keep the man from mistaking her for some havoc-wreaking child. She did not wish to be put out.

Her eyes traveled about the store, and she found herself transformed, and shipped away to the amalgamation of old Europe, antiques, gothic clothing, vintage artifacts. She didn’t understand it, she had hardly ever considered the thought of old Europe. Perhaps it was something like those foreign fairy tale books she would find herself buried in during recess, stuffed away in the library as she read of princesses and dragons and castles. She then felt something—a tie, a connection that struck a chord deep within herself and her past selves. It beckoned to a side of her she didn’t quite know yet. And it sparked a curiosity so great in her that she was absorbed with everything she could capture in her sight. She spent eons in the shop, soaking up every detail she could find. Dusted lamps, over-embellished cutlery, knobs and paintings—

 _And the dress._ Oh, the dress was the most important part of all. She tiptoed over to it, careful to not get too close. The sheer beauty of it would knock her away, but from afar she still received an uncensored view of it. It was much more beautiful than it was through the window, which she didn’t think possible. Her mind fixated itself. It was set. She would have that dress someday. She would get the money for it when she was older, and buy that dress. A simple enough plan. A plan that challenged every bit of her family history, that jabbed itself into her like a blunt knife, and viciously carved a new outcome to her life. And within those moments of confirmed determination, she felt the metaphysical hold of unluckiness upon her life quiver.

But to begin her mission, she asked the man in the suit exactly how much would she need for a dress like that. He scoffed and grumbled and frowned and turned up his nose, making the girl feel tiny, as she nervously fumbled about in her worn shoes. But, through some sort of obligation, he became inclined to inform her that the dress would be at least 56,000 yen. The number staggered over Taeko, in some abstract existence, and looked so high and shadowed so far that the girl could only see darkness, and felt even shorter than before. She frowned. She only had 500 yen in her pocket.

But rather than cry helplessly the way most children would at the feeling of being plunged into complete and utter hopelessness, she simply frowned, imitating the man in front of her. She had a feeling he weren’t the sort to cry. He’d just frown and mock. And it seemed to be quite a nice thing to do. People wouldn’t frown or pity or find her revolting the way they did when she would cry, her face squished up in pain, eyes red, face soggy with tears. The world condemned crying, not allowing exception even for the unluckiest girl in all of human existence. So she would play along. She would do what would keep her safe, what would keep her protected.

She found protection most often in the folds of fairy tales, in the warmth of the pages that wrapped about her like a thick blanket. The wonder and mystery... the feeling of being something _special_ . That was more than enough. At times she would find herself in the stories. She would be the special girl, the princess. The chosen one, who lived up in a castle in absolute luxury, surrounded by magic creatures and comforted with the presence of a prince. The idea was so warm, so fuzzy to her. On the nights her parents didn’t come home from work, she’d gather up all the blankets in the house. As worn and thin and ratted as they were, stuffing herself in the combination of them was enough to heal her unnaturally cold self. She would settle down with the pages of a favorite tale, illuminated with the dim moonlight that shone through dirt-fogged windows. She wasn’t allowed to use the lights in the house unless she was doing homework.

And perhaps this is why that dress latched onto her, how everything about that store seemed to revolve about her, in the same way the planets were forced into the sun’s gravitational pull. She was the sun. She was the center of it all. She had to have it. It was a part of her pull, which just hours ago was empty, with not even the tiniest asteroids in it, calm and still and bleak. She liked the tumultuousness of the pulling, the constant movement in her brain, the constant yearning inside of her. She had something to move towards, something to pull towards herself. Still a child in nature, she decided. She wanted it all. She would get it, somehow. But she needed time to think, to plan, to scheme.

And so she gave the store one last look, zeroing in on a tiny little keychain, in the shape of a wooden doll. It was painted as if it were flaking, decaying from the moment its existence began. And it was 500 yen. Taeko stared into its eyes, so small and cheap that they appeared as uneven black dots that bore into her soul. She smiled and bought it. That would be where she started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike Kyoko, Celestia has no backstory so I'm going wild with this one. Expect another chapter soon!  
> And criticism would be greatly appreciated! This will be my first time writing like this.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeko discovers something special about herself.

That night she was home late. It wouldn’t have mattered in the slightest to anyone. No one was home to receive her, and that was simply the nature of things. Not pleasant certainly, but truly the nature of things. And when you’ve been subjected to such nature for so many years, you forget the unpleasantness and it becomes commonplace. So this is why Taeko did not frown when she opened the door into the shabby apartment. And she could not have frowned even if she tried. She held the doll in her hand. It was tiny, it was a keychain. So cheap and unpleasant to the average person that it was destined to never be purchased. But Taeko changed its reality. And she hoped to change hers as well.

She had to understand the nature of the object, the nature of the things she saw in that shop. She found her book bag and pulled out a crumpled wad of lined papers. Putting in on the dining table and flattening it out with a thin, pale hand, she took to the paper with a broken pencil. She was rather hasty with her work, Taeko took all in her brain and splattered it onto the paper in crude, elementary drawing of the dress. Of the antiques. And of the doll. She drew the dress as its own, disembodied from a manikin or a person. And so to fill that space, she drew herself, with a smile. And then she drew a little crown on her head. The sight of herself in something so glorious was enough to stop her dead in her tracks, as she stared smiling into the paper for a few minutes. She found herself so happily flustered by the idea that she put everything away and stuffed it back into her bag.

She then became aware of her own hunger and ambled over to the kitchen cabinets. She knew exactly which one would possibly hold what foods. She paused with a second of anticipation with each open door, only to be greeted by barrenness, or something she knew not how to prepare. Each cabinet became more and more hopeless until she glanced into the fridge, and decided that racing to sleep before the pain of hunger set in was the best choice. She climbed onto the couch, taking a few blankets with her and doing just that.

Her sleep was interrupted. It seemed to be something that happened far too often, which is why her lower eyelids were a bit dark. And once again, she was whisked away from the land of princesses and mansions and happiness to the jarring reality of the apartment. Unlike her dreams, it was cold and her back and neck ached. The problem with couches was the off-chance of sleeping in the wrong position—regardless of how you planned to rest, your body would shape itself as it pleased in your unconsciousness, and you had no control over sleeping painfully through the night. Such was Taeko’s fate, who pushed herself up to sitting with one arm, her back bent awkwardly.

What had awoken her seemed to erase all thoughts of that for a moment. Light peeked through the front door, which creaked loudly like an alarm. Her mother was home. She smiled a bit and pushed the blankets off of her. She was always excited to see the woman, who looked at her with a calm distance, and a weak smile. A wispy voice came out of the woman, greeting her child. She put a plastic bag on the table with one callused hand, and Taeko enjoyed the rustling sound of it. She stood to her feet and tiptoed over to her mother and her bag. She wanted to hug her, of course, but refrained. The woman was much too tired, because she had already passed by Taeko and retired to her room. The girl frowned but looked back to the bag to search through it.

There was food. Taeko was more than pleased. She grabbed the red bean bread and immediately bit into it. The red bean filling was never appealing to her, perhaps a touch too sweet even, but she ate it regardless. If anything could stave away her hunger, she would let it. Hunger was a driving force. It was most of the feeling she remembered having in her life, beyond unexplained guilt and confusion and loneliness and the occasional lack of feeling, unadulterated emptiness. She almost became comfortable with hunger, like one becomes comfortable with the cold after living in a snowy area for too many years. But the dress changed it. She felt a joy, happiness, that wasn’t fabricated from reading fantasies and attempting to place herself in it; from thinking of the idea so hard that it would conjure up maybe a small, hopeful smile that she would latch onto as much as she could, knowing it was soon fleeting. In fact, she could smile quite widely at just the quick thought now. And knowing she had access to this power, the negative feelings that plagued her were no longer comfortable. She felt something better, which consequently made her pains greater.

Taeko stood eating the bread, almost giddily, as she thought more about her plans for the next day. She would be happy to go to school. She would be happy. For once. Happy. She was quick to climb back onto the couch. She decided to sleep on her other side, in hopes she’d awaken in less pain.

* * *

Things had become rather lucky. She did wake up painlessly. She felt warm and fuzzy and entirely rested. Taeko quickly climbed from the couch and searched through the suitcase of items next to her bed. That was where all of her belongings remained, in the giant, old, broken suitcase that was her mother’s long ago. She enjoyed it, the faded black, the stale aging smell, and if she was bold enough to take out most of the things in it, she could climb inside. When she felt particularly bothered, it was a good place to spend the day. Sometimes she closed her eyes tight when she climbed inside, in hopes that she would fall through the suitcase and into the snowy depths of Narnia, to be greeted by a nice faun who offer food, music, and warmth. It was her version of a wardrobe, after all.

But as much as she wished, it never came to be. Today she didn’t expect any different, and so she did not delay, finding her school uniform and rushing into the bathroom to bathe and dress. Once she was ready she walked into the kitchen, searching about for any food. Yesterday’s bag was gone already. Her father likely found it on his way home. She made a mental note to save extra buns for herself whenever there was food, and so just grabbed her school bag and headed out of the door. She was particular about locking the door on her way. Her parents never gave her a key but expected it locked, and so she had taken the incentive to search through the kitchen cabinets for a spare one.

Now on her usual trek to school, her mind danced away from her and went about its own tangent. Of course, the day’s subject was the shop she had stumbled into. She felt so taken, so captivated by it. Nothing else in this world could make her feel so pleasantly different from the usual numbing feeling everything brought about. It was all she could think about, as if her brain malfunctioned and repeated itself over and over again for the thirty-minute walk. However, even thinking of it a thousand times over, it still felt fresh.

Finally, she stumbled upon the school, right before class would start. It was busy with kids being dropped off and finding their friends, or eating breakfast, or sitting in the hallways lonely, waiting for the bell to finally come. She identified most with the last ones and walked slowly to her classroom, which was conveniently on the side of the school, and not the easiest to access. By the time she arrived the bell rung, and she shuffled into class with every other student.

The events of school didn’t matter. They hardly ever did, besides concepts she would surely need, like math. However, she found the history of Japan useless to her, and she read more than enough books to understand language arts. Science sounded nice enough, but even then she would fall out of interest as soon as it began. She listened, for the sake of knowing enough to do well in school, and followed activities, but spent every moment outside of that time doodling in her notebooks. Once the bell rang again and it was time for recess, Taeko found herself rushing for the library. She had much to do.

Most of it consisted of her searching tirelessly for books. The librarian, in which Taeko had made good friends with over the course of repeated visits, endured her as she tried to explain the shop she ran into. The woman understood her interest and in return made many recommendations. She wrote out and presented a list to Taeko, with books an elementary school surely shouldn’t have, and recommended she look into a public library for them. She smiled and thanked the woman, as that was all she had time for before recess ended and she was back to class.

At the end of the day, she found herself walking home, well-achieved. And better yet, it was the last day in that week of school. Once she got home, she sat about and decided on her next move. It was to go to the library the next day and spend an eternity there, looking into all the strange words the librarian had written on the paper she was gifted. Taeko was hell-bent on this research, which brought up something in her she couldn’t afford to pass.

And as she would find out the next day, and for the resulting few months, what she had seen in that shop was only a glimpse into the rabbit hole of information that explained the dress and its history, not to mention to rest of the store. So Taeko did indeed spend months with the idea, reading fiction and information alike. She visited the store, though very rarely, to prevent herself from becoming used to it. She also reported her results back to the librarian, who would happily spew jargon along the lines of ‘gothic romanticism,’ and Taeko found her notebook ran out of pages with the number of drawings. But it was quite the obsession, the fixation. Not much else mattered.

Until of course, an event came about that would change the course of her history quite dramatically. It was cold now, in the days right before winter break started for all children. In fact, it was the day of her class party, right before school paused for a few weeks. Taeko always frowned at these parties because she never was able to bring something to share, so she mostly stuffed herself in a corner and read or drew while everyone else played games. But at the very least, she did enjoy being able to eat and try foods she always saw at the store, but was never able to buy. They were commonplace foods, but still unattainable to her.

The exact event that caused the shift in her life came three hours into the party, which spanned all school day. Taeko had noticed out of the corner of her eyes that a cluster of students had started crowding about one table, but she didn't think much of it. Not until she heard her name called and jolted up out of her spot. A kid ran over and pulled her to the table, and unable to react, Taeko followed. She now stood with the rest of the students and looked to see two classmates sitting at the table, with cards in their hands. There was a stack of upturned cards in the middle, in which one of the kids grabbed and put next to him, face down.

She frowned and grew a bit intimidated. She knew him. It wasn’t often, but he did bully her. Everyone did, to some extent, but he really enjoyed messing with her. It was mostly during P.E., where he would make her life even more miserable during sports; even if she was on his team, he would find a way to embarrass her. Taeko didn’t know his name at this point—he was only ever mean to her, so she could only call him a bully.

The other kid frowned, and everyone watched intently as they played. Eventually, their cards ran out, and the bully obviously had more stacks. He laughed about it and the kid grumbled and handed over some coins. Some actual money. Taeko couldn’t believe that the bully was getting money from them. Once the kid got up and sauntered off, everyone looked at her. She realized what was next.

Of course, she adamantly refused to play. But she was led into the chair and she was taught the rules. She was too shy to cut them off and say ‘no,’ and leave right there. She watched what they said and she quickly understood, even if her mind was busy with how to escape. The game was two-player spades; though that wasn’t important, she needed to be going. The bully asked what her price was, and she said she had nothing to give, and so really she shouldn’t play. It was true, she had no money on her.

So he had a better idea. If Taeko lost, she couldn’t eat any food for the rest of the party. Her brain screamed for her to just run off, but she gulped and nodded. She had already eaten and she was used to hunger, so if she didn’t get dinner later it wouldn’t be too bad, right? She would just sleep, but she then got angry with herself for making excuses for the horrible bet. At the very least, he bet some money, but she doubted she would win. It was too late however, they were both drawing their cards and once they had thirteen, the game was set in motion.

It ended just as quickly as it began. Taeko had eight tricks. Out of thirteen. She won the hand. But in this modified version, really she had won the game altogether. The bully’s demise was quick. And he was not happy with it. He wanted to argue cheating, but through some sort of luck, the kids that crowded around them defended her in that she won fair and square. This was either because they were just fair or just wanted to see the bully lose, not through any sort of compassion or care for the girl. Because even the kids who defended her were still caught off guard. To think Taeko, the slowest, quietest, most useless kid in school would win a game of cards. But they also wrote it off because she always had her head in a book. She was smart, above all things. She was probably smart enough to win, somehow.

And so, the bully reluctantly handed over some coins. If he hadn’t, he would be severely judged and lose the respect of his classmates. It was much more than she could have imagined, he bet such an amount out of cockiness, and now he was forced to turn it over to her. She sheepishly took it, hiding an embarrassed smile as she found five hundred yen in her pocket. Her other classmates, still caught in astonishment, were quick to fight over who would play next. Seeing as she won, she wasn’t allowed to go off into her corner. She had to continue with whoever wanted to go next. She was trapped unless she lost.

But she didn’t lose. She would have preferred to not play, but she didn’t want to lose. She had five hundred more yen than before, and she wanted to keep it. So as a result, student after student lost. She realized rather quickly that this would result in added yen, and for those who weren’t brave enough, they would bet their snacks. Food stacked around her, resemblant of poker chips. But she hadn’t a mind to know quite what gambling was, even though she were participating in it and winning quite thoroughly. How she won she wasn’t sure. But everything seemed to make the perfect amount of sense.

She realized how frowns and twitches and squints told her just the cards her opponent seemed to have. She memorized the cards they put down and previously claimed tricks, which told her what to expect. She decided very carefully, what order to use her own cards, leaving the best for last and always swiping the last few tricks. But nothing was perfect. There was a sense of uncertainty, that gave away to absolute luck. The cards she would have each game were entirely not of her choosing, and although she never had quite the perfect hand, she always managed to have just enough to win, even if by one trick. It was exhilarating. Success, victory. It was such a delightful feeling, something thing made her light, happy. She had never exactly been one to win quite anything. And so there was a high every single time she knew she had more tricks than the other. She didn’t show this of course, but she felt it deeply and relished in it.

Eventually, the students were tired, and out of snacks and money that they were willing to hand over. Taeko reigned victorious, and a few kids, the ones who didn’t dare play, expressed how they found her victories quite impressive. This was done in a more elementary fashion, but it made Taeko murmur a quiet thank you, as she ran off to the corner with her book and began reading again until a bell rang out thirty minutes later. School was over, and students rushed out of the classroom as though a fire began to light inside. But Taeko remained as the teacher began to pack up their own belongings.

Slowly she stuffed her school bag full of her winnings, which was mostly snacks. It would compensate for the lack of food over the break. She smiled and slowly walked out of the classroom, deciding how she would ration the treats for the following weeks. In the back of her mind lingered the games she played. She never lost, not once. Even to someone who knew the game better than her. It… it felt natural. After the first trick was claimed, she suddenly knew. She understood. Something ticked in her, like ice finally melting off of frozen gears. Once she began ticking, that tumultuous sensation, so much like the one she felt in that shop, came to her. Enraptured in it, Taeko would find herself not even sure of what occurred until the game was over and she was a bit richer. It was something divine. She smiled, ever so delighted, and almost skipped home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to rewrite this chapter like fifty times in hopes it will flow better and make more sense, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know how I’m doing because I have no idea if this sounds right!


	3. Futherance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeko's fate begins to evolve.

The events of that school day changed the course of Taeko’s life. She was clueless to this, and headed home in a spirit of absolute elation. Once in the apartment, she set down her backpack and sat on the couch, unable to do much but kick her legs and attempt to live down her excitement. Finally she could, so she jumped from the couch and roamed about the house until she calmed down. Her good mood beckoned to her to draw, so she found that bundle of papers. As days and weeks passed, she doodled beyond just the dress, the content of the novels she read covering most pages. She collected it all together in a little stack, and found a page with empty space. Taeko continued her doodling there; a vampire woman who played cards exceptionally well. She realized she had no cards to reference in her art, and so went from memory, adding cards to the list of things she hoped to one day own.

This vampire woman took hours of effort; she had red eyes and fangs, a devilish smile, and wore something similar to Taeko’s dream dress, with beautiful black and red detail. Once finished, Taeko was incredibly pleased with the result. She placed the page neatly on top of the others in the stack and slid them back into her bag. Then she paced about the apartment again, trying one of the snacks she won from a fellow classmate. As she did so, she counted the amount of snacks and choose how to ration them out over the break. She would be gone from school for two long weeks. She almost wanted to go immediately back, if only for another game of cards. Once her snacks were planned out, she decided to settle down on the couch, curling up and laying on her side. After thirty minutes of staring at the brown cushion of the sofa, she succumbed to sleep for that night.

It was a short lived rest. More of a nap of only two hours, without dreams, before the front door woke her. This happened often, and usually she would opt to pretend her eyes were closed, and slowly fall back to sleep. But with the events of that day, she sat up quickly and turned to the door. Two figures appeared. It was a surprise to see her mother and father together. Both must have been in a particularly good mood, one hidden to her, as they trudged by with weak smiles at her presence. Their aura radiated an exhaustion, one Taeko couldn’t differentiate from the chronic, nine year long tiredness, or just a lack of necessary sleep. Either way, Taeko sat up and waltzed over to the dining room table, sitting down. She knew they would return to search the cabinets, a nightly ritual of theirs.

As they did so, Taeko relayed the events of the day to them, filled once again with that past excitement. Both parents nodded and grumbled in reply, until she mentioned her winnings. Her father turned around and raised a brow. Taeko won every bet, playing a game she had just learned that day. Her father left to his room, returning with a pack of cards. He wanted to play Spades. Taeko could have burst with happiness. She couldn’t remember if she had ever played a game with her father before. He shuffled the cards, the cards seeming to dance about in his hands almost. Taeko never knew her father was expert with such a game.

She tried to remember the day’s events—the strategies, techniques, the tells that would help assure her victory. But she hadn’t realized her opponent. Her father spared no time thinking, his cards hitting the table as quickly as possible each round. She won a few tricks, but was still beaten quite well. He was victorious and Taeko tasted the sadness of loss, which stung a bit on her tongue, making her wince. She wanted to win again, that feeling was much more satisfying. Her father smiled at her loss, however, and did note he saw potential in her.

Taeko didn’t know what potential meant but she liked it. She enjoyed the idea of finally being seen, allowed a bit of attention. It has been two years since her name was uttered in any other context beyond reprimanding. So she absolutely relished in the happiness of that long-lost recognition. It overpowered the previous despair of loss and filled her with a new vigor. One that bolstered her motivation even more at hearing her father’s willingness to entertain another game with her. And so they played again. And again. And again.

Taeko won not once; in a technical sense. But with each game she learned new things, recognized strategy, began to understand each card’s place in the universe of Spades. She became a part of that world, intrinsically linked, and moved just as the cards were so destined, to win. She never did that night, but the knowledge itself was a gift. One she didn’t realize would shape the rest of her future. Not at the moment, at least. At the moment she listened to her father’s lecture about playing cards, how losing would lead to despair and a life of bad luck and absolute destitution.

When she slept that night, she slept very well.

Her greatest wishes seemed to be slowly granted right before her very eyes. In the weeks following, she saw her parents more often. Much less than the average child, who would have considered their new presence about as often as an apparition, but it was enough for Taeko became sure of many new things. Her mother’s hair did have a few lines of silver in it, aging much faster than the woman herself. Her father’s eyes were deep red but long seemed brown in the darkness. Her mother was tall but slumped with an air of constant exhaustion, scheduled to sigh at least twice every ten minutes. And her father had a good deal of scars, diverse and confusing, over his arms and hands and one aging gash on his left chin. It was like rediscovering old memories.

They asked about school. About friends, even though there were none. About the poorly drawn vampire woman shoved in her stack of art. Taeko told everything. Her entire life spilled out until the apartment was saturated in it. Her parents never heard her answers. But they smiled, nodded, and praised her when she did better in the next game of Spades. She was lucky to have such ignorance, to believe wholeheartedly that their love extended to the farthest reaches of the world, and perhaps she had been too blind to see it. That perhaps she had done some wrong two years off, and it took all the way until the winter break for them to forgive her. Perhaps this was simply the nature of things. But it didn’t matter now. She felt loved, not knowing what love was, but knowing that she likely needed it.

There grew a pattern between her parents and the cards. The better her performances, the closer she got to winning, the more she would see them. Her parents themselves seemed to be tied to each other. If she saw her mother, her father was nearby. If she saw her father, her mother wasn’t too far behind. And so Taeko was left with no choice to but to excel at Spades. Even without their influence the game was something she found herself so enamored by, mostly due to the incident on the last school day before winter break. And there was just something about the absolute uncertainty of the game, yet the need of skillful strategy that was almost comforting. It was something she was good at. For once. And it couldn’t be taken from her.

The winter break ended quickly, and Taeko felt some controversy about returning to school. She wouldn’t have as much free time to play games, but she was glad to go back, to see her classmates after such a good last day. Even if they ignored her when she walked down the hallway, looked right past her in class, and consistently forgot her existence during P.E. and recess. Still she felt happy, and held onto it as much as she could. It was a very foreign sensation to her.

And even sometimes a classmate would challenge her to a game. They were so surprised by the events of the class party, some had begun to convince themselves it was a bad dream over the extensive break. Taeko simply didn’t have the talent. But luckily, she was able to prove herself quite well, snapping them back into reality. The nicer students—the ones who began to think she was a little more interesting than before—began to show her new games. The hope was that she wouldn’t be able to play them as well as Spades, giving them a chance to beat her. But she proved all of them wrong once again.

It was a euphoria only diminished by constant exclusion from all else, which she had previously been so used to. Now that she had been exposed to happiness, pain that once felt numb to began to sting again. But she tried to ignore these things. It was almost overwhelming, the way life seemed to come together. Taeko pressed herself to remain a regular at the library during recess, and looked especially for card-related books. She found a particular sun-faded manga that had a woman holding an ace of spades, and took immediate interest. Most kids would have pushed her for reading picture books, so she didn’t go outside of the library with it. But she used it as inspiration for her drawings, improving the vampire woman. It was also upon her luck that the book was about gambling. She learned about games and strategies she had never heard of.

She didn’t let up in her previous endeavors either. Every minute of her day began to fill with manga or old literature or playing cards or dresses she could only dream of having. Any sort of emptiness and loneliness was filled with busyness. Months were spent in such a fashion. A new rhythm of life began to take hold. And for once, Taeko felt a part of something. Still somewhat ignored, but students approached her with decks of cards and her parents did the same. This did increase the amount of kids betting with her, and then forcibly taking back her winnings once school was over, but all the same. They looked at her, which is more than she would have ever imagined months ago.

The rhythm was steady and flowing, almost perfect to Taeko. It wasn’t until the summertime—where the last school year had ended and the new one was approaching it’s first break—that change interrupted the cycle. It arrived at her front door, let into the house by her father late one weekend night. It came in the form of a man, taller and bigger and more grizzly than her father. Taeko sat on the couch and watched the two converse, unable to hear their words as she stared at the man whose presence filled up the apartment.

Eventually, this man turned his eyes on her. They were deep brown, painfully dull. He called her over and Taeko trembled, unsure of why she would do so. Her father smiled and introduced her. She didn’t hear his name. But he knew how to play cards rather well. Better than her father. This was tested as she sat down across from him, her father at her side. A simple game of Blackjack. She had learned this game a few weeks ago and her father watched as she analyzed the cards, attempting to see into the fate of each one.

There was an anxiety that rose as she played. With every decision between Hit or Stay, she hesitated for fear of rejection. Her father watching over her game made her nervous, as if this was some sort of rite of passage. As if the dull-eyed man was some sort of storybook villain, and that her loss would prove she was unworthy. The whole while the man with the void in his eyes talked endlessly, about strategy and good moves and bad moves. Her father nodded and responded, both men with their eyes glued to Taeko.

She didn’t remember if she won or lost. The man simply nodded and was on his way. Her father placed a callused hand on her shoulder, explaining the man was a friend of his, one he used to play cards with often. She showed potential to him as well.

Which meant she would see him again. He was to teach her how to play well. Her father was too busy with his own nighttime preoccupations, and so the apartment was no longer a comfort to her. Late at night the door would open and she would awake to find her parents. She would attempt a smile but he would join them into the house, waiting for her with cards. Another anxiety began to surface. This man served as the epitome of her fears; incompetence. And he was unlike her father, who was mildly relaxed, a bit harsh but not focused enough to mean anything. He lacked his cool and so came off as aggressive and temperamental, scaring her to no end. She felt as if he was an extension of an unknown side of her father; his disappointment, his expectations, his judgement. As if the moment she made a mistake her father knew and frowned.

The dull-eyed man’s visits weren’t at all frequent—only a few times a month—but still there, meaning that Taeko would always exist warily. Summer break came and went. School began again. And slowly yet surely, her abilities found themselves improving. This was made apparent in October, on a Tuesday night. Taeko won enough bets to beat her father at Spades. In the long tournament of rounds, she managed to come out just barely successful. At the time her father went silent, before grinning in a way that almost scared Taeko. She was ready to surpass him, is what she was told. She smiled at the words then, but would have frowned had she realized what they meant.

That man, the friend of her father’s, the teacher, came back. It was usual and expected. But it wasn’t foreseen that he would come back every week. Sometimes twice a week. He appeared much more often than ever before. It was constant exposure that slowly yet surely began to affect her. Coupled with the fact that he wasn’t any more lenient in his ways with her news of much improvement, if not now the opposite. Losing was no longer only disapproved of. It was now punished.

And so, in response, Taeko very quickly pressed herself to win. She needed both her father’s approval and the relief from the consequence of failure. But it was a painstakingly long, unsuccessful process. Winning was a skill unlearned until five months of punishment passed. So long that the word ‘lost’ became more familiar to her than any other, haunting enough to forever make her slightly nauseous at the sound of it. But enduring that toil was enough to prepare her so that she would hardly ever hear that word—in reference to herself—again. That man, her instructor, made sure of it.

* * *

School began its course again in the following month, a new year of the same stagnant nature of public education. Taeko was in her fifth year at this point, having survived a decade of existence. But school had become an afterthought, almost. She maintained her performance, but her brain had become attuned to focusing on the only thing she had to work towards, the only thing that made her father smile, and the only thing that made people speak to her: games and winning. In the previous months the games began to stretch beyond cards; to dice and chips and board pieces. She heard many times from her instructor that these games involved money in the real world. That she had to win if she wanted to be rich, and that failure meant a life bound to the streets.

Being rich or on the streets were neither a concern to her. But the sound of money did attract her some. Taeko hadn’t forgotten her dreams. It was seldom now with the preoccupation of her instruction, but she never ceased visiting that shop. The one with the beautiful dress on display. The one that gave her a purpose. She was still taken with the dress at times, thoughts preoccupied with having it, its pull of importance possessing her. Her other realized interests, the vampires, the fairytales, the cards, the dress, all of it came together. If she never lost in the real world, if she made her father smile, if she made her instructor nod, then she would have money. She would buy that dress. She could look just like the reoccuring vampire woman in her thoughts and drawings. She could be her. She would be perfect. She would be happy. She would have everything she wanted. She could be her.


End file.
